


Howl at the Moons

by Growliere



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Dramedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Werewolves, Werewolves in Space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3629502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Growliere/pseuds/Growliere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the Guardians gets bitten by a space werewolf, and the team tries to handle the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a bit special for me, since I'm putting together two of my favorite things: GotG and werewolves. It won't fit 100% to any one version of the werewolf mythology, but I figured since it's aliens and space werewolves I had a bit more freedom. Rocket is quite a jerk in this story initially, but he does get better about it quickly. I hope he doesn't come off as too unlikable.
> 
> Foul language, though the majority are fantasy swears. Frequent non-sexual, non-graphic nudity. And a few instances of public urination. (If this deserves an M rating let me know).

The Milano's door opened and closed with a whoosh. “Rocket, why are the lights out? I can barely see,” Quill called out from the entry. The flight deck didn't need any lights with the clear cockpit letting the sunlight in, but the rest of the ship was bathed in a pale glow.

Rocket stopped his work and emerged from under the console in the cockpit. A plasma-light ball sat on the floor next to him. “Had ta turn everything off for maintenance. Emergency lights and the front door are online with the backup generator, but that's about it. Tryin' to see what's wrong with the power relay. Whaddya doing back alone?”

Quill walked up to the flight deck. “They'll be back later. I went off on my own and ran into someone I kinda stole from a while ago. One of his goons bit me. Took care of them myself though.” The Terran massaged his neck.

“Think it's infected? Lemme see.” The raccoon climbed up the man's torso to examine the bite. “What are you on about Quill, there ain't even a wound here.” The raccoon leapt off, returning to the console.

“That's weird. Anyway, I don't feel so good. I'm heading to bed. Try to keep it down, okay?” Peter turned around and gave a nonchalant wave as he went down to his quarters.

Rocket tinkered away in peace. The only noises aside from his own were the almost imperceptible hum of the emergency lights, and light snoring from Quill's room.

After it got dark, the full moon rose to hang over the ship, brightening up the flight deck.

A crashing sound pulled him from his work. Quill screamed. Rocket's fur stood on end as he climbed down into the main area. One paw held the plasma-light ball, the other held a blaster. The sphere dimly illuminated the immediate area. He was glad for having good sight in low lighting. His nose caught the scent of danger, a predator. Fighting the urge to retreat, the small cyborg cautiously pressed on, gun at the ready. He was filled with a sense of dread.

“Quill?” Rocket called out, hoping he was just being paranoid. It was entirely possible that the Terran had woken up and tripped. But it wouldn’t explain the smell.

A bipedal canine creature emerged from Peter's room and loomed over Rocket. The beast's towering, furry body heaved with its breath. It let out a piercing howl and rushed towards the raccoon. Rocket dropped the plasma ball and shoved the blaster in a pocket. He ran on all fours as fast as his little legs could take him, but two could play at that game. The intruder walked over the cyborg, stopping him in his tracks. Rocket pulled the trigger, hitting several spots on the monster's torso. It reared back slightly, but was otherwise unfazed, knocking the gun out of Rocket's paws. The raccoon slammed on his comm.

“Get your asses back to the ship! Could really use your help right bout now!” He yelled while running at full speed from the creature.

“ _Rocket, what's wrong?”_ Gamora’s voice asked through the comm.

“ _I am Groot?”_ The tree said in the background.

“I'm about to be wolf-chow! Just get back here, I'll 'splain later if I ain't dead.” The raccoon ended the call before they could distract him.

Rocket began to notice some strange things about this creature. The smell was foreign, but somehow familiar. Its fur was a bit curly, the color at the intersection between brown and blond. It was completely feral, but wore clothes. Torn clothes that looked suspiciously like Quill's.

Unfortunate realization dawned on Rocket's mind while the thing that used to be Quill backed him into the wall. There was no silver on board. Normal weapons would damage the ship and waste ammo. The werewolf's hot, stinking breath covered the raccoon as the giant maw closed in.

Fear. It wasn’t the same as the fear of being recaptured by Halfworld, or of Ronan when he had the stone. This was more primal, instinctive.

Rocket slipped between the wolf's legs and scampered to the cargo hold, the pursuer close behind. A stack of small crates lined one wall, with additional crates piled in each corner. He read the inscriptions on the crates and opened one, their backup food supply. The raccoon hid behind the boxes on the other side of the room. Rocket didn’t want to look, but he could hear the beast enter the room and ransack the food.

The front door opened, accompanied by 3 sets of footsteps. The lights clicked on a moment later. Parts of the control panel would still be down, but it would be enough for the ship to function. Rocket raced up towards the cockpit, hoping that the meager food in the crate would keep the wolfman occupied.

Gamora’s voice could be heard. “Where are Rocket and Peter?” She asked, annoyed, but her voice carried a hint of concern. “Didn't he say something about a wolf?”

“Perhaps it is another elaborate ruse, they are prone to such pranks,” Drax stated.

“I am Groot,” the tree said in a worried tone. He wanted to inspect the ship.

The others had closed the hatch to the flight deck behind them. Rocket banged on the door several times. “It's me, lemme in!”

As the entry opened with Gamora looking down at him, the raccoon felt Quill grab his tail from behind.

“AAAAHHH!” Rocket yelped in pain.

“Rocket!” She yelled as she reached out to him. “Grab my hand!”

Drax got behind her and wrapped his massive arms around her waist. Groot's vines twisted around them for stability.

Rocket felt like his tail was being ripped from his body. Being the rope in a game of tug-o-war was not something he ever wanted to experience.

“I am GROOT!” On the tree’s cue, they pulled, freeing the raccoon’s tail from the wolf’s grasp. Once safely in the cockpit, Rocket leaned against the wall and took the chance to catch his breath. He gently massaged his injured tail. The wolf continued to snarl and bang on the closed hatch.

“What is that thing, and where is Peter?” Gamora asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

Rocket’s ear twitched to every noise from the other side of the door. “Fly to the other side of the planet, now. That's Quill. He got bit by a d’ast werewolf.” The impact hadn’t fully set in before saying it out loud. This would not be an isolated incident, but a constant fact of life.

Gamora and Groot gasped in unison.

Drax remained calm. “Were you bitten?” questioned The Destroyer.

He shook his head. Quill turning into a raging psychotic dogman was bad enough, but the fact that the condition was contagious via biting made it even worse.

The Milano took off, and Gamora piloted it to the opposite end of the planet, where it was day.

Rocket groaned and made his way to the hatch. He opened the door and saw a very confused and extremely naked Terran laying on the floor.

“What's going on?” Peter asked as he looked around. “And what happened to my clothes?”

“Team meeting, now. Put some flarking pants on,” the cyborg demanded.

“What, afraid you'll like what you see?” Quill teased with a smirk.

A quiet growl came from the raccoon. “Shuddap.”

* * *

The team assembled in the galley once the resident werewolf was clothed.

“What is this about?” Quill questioned. “Why is everything so blurry and smelly and loud?”

Gamora cut right to the chase. “Peter, you are a lycanthrope.”

“A werewolf? What? No way.” The Terran’s jaw hung open, dumbfounded. “Those are a thing in space?”

“They aren’t common in this sector, many of them have been wiped out by hunters. Most occupy forest planets and moons in the outer rim.” she explained.

Rocket leaned over the table and shoved a tablet into Quill’s hands. It displayed video of the Milano’s interior showing the werewolf turning back into Peter.

“What.” The Terran sat still for a few moments, silent. “That explains a lot. Wait, that dog guy that bit me today...How was he like that during the day though?” Peter scratched his head.

Gamora continued. “Certain species are affected more strongly, changing for the whole duration of days the moon is full.”

“How do space werewolves work?” Quill asked. “The usual myth on Earth is that they turn into crazy wolf monsters during the full moon, weakness to silver, repelled by wolfsbane, stuff like that.”

She nodded her head. “I’ve heard much the same, but there are different peculiarities between species. The presence of multiple moons or being on a moon may also cause anomalies.”

“And no more mistletoe for your stupid Terran holidays.” The raccoon smirked as he spoke. “It’s lycan repellant.”

“Yeah, right,” Quill challenged. “You’re making that up. You just don’t want to kiss me again.”

Rocket shuddered at the thought.

“No, he’s correct,” Gamora stated. They were indeed being honest, but chances are they would have said the same even if mistletoe wasn’t an effective deterrent for werewolves.

“I’ve met one before.” Rocket said, feigning bravado. “Prison break #13. The guards thought it would be funny to put a werewolf in my cell.”

That piqued Drax’s interest. “Was it amusing?”

“Hilarious,” the raccoon quipped.

The tree groaned. “I am Groot.”

Quill’s eyes grew wide as he slammed his hands on the table. “Woah, Groot- say something again. I-I think I just understood you.”

The tree gasped. “I...am Groot?” he asked in a hopeful tone.

“Haha, good one buddy!” The Terran smiled. “This is great!”

The tree grinned and pulled Peter into a tight hug. “I am GROOT!”

The tree’s best friend frowned. It made sense, it was unsurprising that the Terran’s new super-hearing would allow him to hear Groot. Rocket knew he should be happy for Groot being able to communicate with someone else, but he wasn’t. He was many things at this moment, and happy was most certainly not one of them.

Rocket wore a sour expression and crossed his arms. “We gotta go buy a stockpile of silver.”

Quill’s face displayed an odd mix of smug and upset. “You're gonna kill me?”

“Just a precaution. Would ya rather us maroon you on Sirius or Aconite?” Rocket leaned forward, placing both paws on the table. “You're a liability, Quill. What happens if you change in the middle of a mission? What if we can't contain you in the meantime?” He took a deep breath. “Maybe I shouldn't say 'we.' I’m leavin’, with or without Groot.” If the others were smart, they would jump ship too, though he doubted that with how sentimental they were. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stay. Not with a werewolf on board.

Groot’s expression hardened to what can only be described as furious disappointment. “I AM Groot.”

Hopping off the chair, the raccoon’s ears flattened and tail stiffened. “You can't be serious! This ship ain't big enough for him and me.”

“Nonsense,” Drax stated. “There is more than enough room for both you and Friend Quill. But for all five of us, the space is rather cramped.”

“Enough.” Gamora stood, glaring at Rocket. “If you truly wish to leave, I won’t stop you. But we are a team, and we will find a way through this.”

Rocket slumped back into his chair as the others also sat back down.

Quill broke the brief silence. “Maybe he's right. Is there any cure?”

“There is a drug that keeps the change at bay, but the side-effects are worse,” Gamora answered. “Violent mood swings, partial transformations, and so on.”

The raccoon remembered something. He casually pulled at one of his whiskers. “Rumor has it, killin’ the wolf that turned ya works.”

“I shall rip out the werewolf’s spine,” the tattooed mountain offered.

Quill grimaced. “I think I would need to do the killing, if that even works. Let’s leave that as a last resort though, okay?”

“Fine. Instead, I will train you.” Drax placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Gamora objected. “Werewolves cannot be domesticated.”

“Only because I have not yet tried.” Drax scoffed.

Rocket sniffed in an exaggerated way and swatted the air in front of his snout. “Eugh, Pete, ya smell like wet dog.”

“Yeah, well you smell like dinner, fear, and engine grease,” the man retorted.

The raccoon hopped onto the table, fur standing on end. “I AIN’T scared a' you Quill!” Lips curled into a snarl, he lied through his teeth. “It's just you're a time-bomb waitin' to explode.”

* * *

After everyone calmed down, the pair of cyborgs led the werewolf to the cargo hold. Rocket set up a makeshift cage with lines of plasma.

“Are you serious?” asked the prisoner.

“Relax, Peter.” The woman placed her hand on his shoulder. “It'll only be when we're on or traveling by planets with potentially triggering moons.”

The small cyborg broke their contact by pushing at the back of the werewolf’s legs. “I say we keep him locked up all the time.”

Quill turned around in his confinement, frowning. “What if I need to pee?”

“We'll get you paper-trained,” Rocket said with a malicious grin.

Gamora walked ahead of him as they went back upstairs. “I agree that he is dangerous now, but I worry that you are allowing your biases and fears to cloud your judgment.”

Rocket avoided her gaze and refused to respond.


	2. Mark Your Territory

The team stopped on Argent Major, the planet with the most abundant source of silver in the galaxy. Because of this, it was swarming with hunters, so Quill stayed on the ship. After buying far more silver weaponry than was necessary, they left the planet and went far in the other direction.

Over the following week, Rocket made a point of avoiding Quill as much as possible. Most of his time was spent comparing star-charts and lunar phases. He tried to adjust their course to avoid even passing by any planets with moons, but to no avail. Groot had taken to hanging out with Quill, having found someone else to have a proper conversation with. The troublesome werewolf made a habit of using his condition as an excuse for nudity while on the Milano. Star-Mutt didn’t want to destroy all of his precious clothing.

* * *

Rocket was taking a nap. He awoke to the sound of liquid tinkling on the floor, followed by footsteps leaving the room. His eyes adjusted and he saw the yellow puddle. The stench of dog urine assaulted his nose. He stormed out into the common area, while keeping a wary eye out for Quill. Gamora and Groot were sitting on the couch.

The woman patted the seat next to her. “It’s alright. Drax is chasing him. The planet we are passing by has twin moons. Under these conditions it seems Peter acts like a puppy. The ship is on auto-pilot.”

He grumbled as he sat between them. “That d’asted mutt pissed in my room.”

“I am Groot.” The tree said, embarassed.

“He leaked on you too?! This is an outrage!” Rocket folded his arms. “But I told ya not to let him out under any circumstances, I don’t care how persuasive he is.”

Gamora ruffled the fur on the top of his head. “Calm down. I know it’s a problem, but your attitude isn’t helping.”

The raccoon swatted her hand away. “You’re taking his side?!”

“Let me deal with him later,” she replied.

The three sat in awkward silence.

Shortly after, Quill returned to normal and finally put on some pants before he passed the others’ quarters while walking to the common area. “Hey Rocket, you really should clean your room, it smells awful.”

“Why you- It only smells like that cause you pissed in it! You did the same to Groot too!” The small cyborg jumped off the couch and marched towards Peter's room. “That’s it, time fer you ta know what it’s like.”

“Come on buddy, don’t do this to me,” the Terran pleaded as he tried to get in Rocket's way. “I’m sorry, man.”

Groot hadn’t seemed too upset about being urinated on, but it was enough. He grew his vines to block Quill’s path, freeing Rocket to take revenge.

“Too late.” Rocket grinned with the satisfaction of sweet revenge as he relieved himself on Quill's floor.

* * *

A little while later, Rocket and Quill sat at the table in the galley. Drax was at the stove preparing the team’s dinner.

“Okay, I probably deserved you peeing in my room,” Peter admitted, but his expression turned into a glare. “But you didn’t have to go all over my favorite jacket.”

Rocket held his hands up as if that would justify his actions. “It ain’t my fault your room’s a mess, fleabag.”

“But why did I, uh, do that in your room specifically?”

“Simple. Markin’ your territory. Display of dominance, natural instinct crap.”

“That makes sense.”

Drax butted in. “Or does it mean that you are claiming Friend Rocket’s quarters as your own?”

Quill blanched at the implications of that. “On second thought, let’s not read too much into it. Can you make my steak almost raw?”

The tattooed man nodded.

“Do ya know how unsanitary that is?” Rocket asked in disgust.

“Says the guy that eats trash,” Quill retorted.

Drax spoke up again. “I have heard you speak this metaphor before. You mean that he ingests food that lacks nutrition?”

“No metaphor this time,” the Terran explained. “Actual garbage.”

The Destroyer grunted in reply.

“That was one time!” Rocket stood up in his seat and pointed an accusatory finger at Quill. “Desperate times called for desperate measures. Leave it to the ‘legendary’ Star-Mutt to insult me outta-context.”

Peter slammed his hands on the table and stood up. “What is your problem?!” His eyes were dark and voice cold. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. Someone calls you an animal and it’s the end of the world, but you call me a dog in the worst way whenever we’re in the same room...I thought you of all people would understand. You’re just a hypocrite. I’d call you a raccoon, but I don’t wanna stoop to your level, asshole.”

Rocket’s eyes narrowed and he retreated to his room in silence.

* * *

Later that night, the cyborg snuck out to the galley for a midnight snack and a delightful beverage.

His private dining experience was interrupted by Quill. “Pour me a drink?” Peter asked as he entered the room and sat across from Rocket.

“Go ‘way.” The raccoon took a swig of alcohol. Of course the werewolf had to confront him at his most vulnerable. Drunk and honest.

“Only if you tell me what your deal is. Why do you hate me?”

Rocket frowned, but passed the bottle of alcohol to him. “I don’t hate ya, it’s just...I hate dogs. You know that.”

“Come on, it has to be more than that.” Quill said as he gave a skeptical look.

“Groot spends all his time with ya now.”

“You’re mad about that? Seriously? He’s only hanging out with me so much because that’s new. If I could only talk to one person for years, sure I’d go overboard if I found someone new I could talk to. But you’re his best friend. I’ll never replace you, and I wouldn’t want to. Honestly I’m a little jealous of you guys.”

“I guess so.” Rocket motioned for Quill to give him the bottle back. The man obliged and the raccoon took a swig. “I’m not sayin’ I’m ‘fraid of ya or nuffin, cos I ain't, but in the wild a thing like you’d eat a thing like me.”

“I didn’t really think about that.”

“And how can ya be so d’ast calm about this. Yer life is changed forever and you’re a danger to your friends, but you’re still dancin’ without a care in the world.”

Quill sighed. “Who would I be if I was moping about this? Dancing like an idiot and keeping up morale is in my job description.” The facade faded a little, and he looked down at the floor. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I hurt or infected any of you. I haven’t told anyone, but I’m colorblind now. Red was my favorite color, now it just looks brown. Green too. Everything I see seems so dull.”

“I can’t see red either, but it don’t bother me cause I never could. Nothin’ to miss.” Rocket felt like he understood the Terran a little better, now knowing that just a bit of the bumbling idiot persona was an act.

“What else?” Peter held his hand out for the bottle and he took a sip.

“We’re monsters. But your monster-ness has an off switch, even if you ain’t the one controlling it. I’m like this all the time.”

“Rocket, we aren’t monsters.”

“A werewoof is a monster by definition.”

“Maybe we look like monsters, and have weird bodies. But we're in space. I've slept with way weirder people than us. Real monsters are people like Thanos, and the scientists that did this to you.” Quill paused. “Are we okay now?”

“As much as we're -hic- gonna be.” Rocket's eyes drifted shut involuntarily, but snapped back open. He could feel his tiredness pulling on him.

Quill stood and pulled the raccoon into his arms.

“Lemme down.” Rocket was too tired to struggle.

“If I do you'll pass out on the floor, come on.” Peter walked to the cyborg's room and placed him on the bed.

Rocket curled into the blankets, half-asleep. “Quill, I was a real jerk,” he mumbled.

“I know, just get some sleep.”

“I'm tryin' to apologize, you idiot.”

“You're already forgiven, dude. Goodnight.” Peter left the room as Rocket drifted to sleep.


End file.
